


down to catch my breath and then

by thatfire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Deepthroating, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, This is not what you're meant to use a desk for Deucalion, blind!Deucalion, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:50:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatfire/pseuds/thatfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles isn't stupid, he knows he shouldn't be near Deucalion, let alone speak to him, but there's something about him that draws Stiles in, that makes him want to talk and talk and ask all the questions he hasn't allowed himself to ask anyone else.</p>
<p>- Or -</p>
<p>The one where Stiles knows he should stay away from Deucalion, but instead finds himself in an interesting position on a desk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	down to catch my breath and then

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Viola on tumblr, because she's lovely and Deucalion is killing us slowly.  
> It's also a little get ready kind of fic for my Deucalion/Peter/Stiles fic i'm planning on writing :3

The corridor's empty apart from the sound of light footsteps and Stiles' own breathing.

He doesn't bother turning around when the steps stop behind him, carries on filtering around in his locker instead, and almost hits his head on the top when the person finally speaks.

"You shouldn't be wandering around out here all alone, Stiles."

Stiles doesn't need to turn around to recognize the voice, smooth and rolling off a cunning tongue, but he does anyway, closing his locker on the way and shifting his bag on his shoulders.

"Because a big monster might come and get me?" He says, and doesn't miss the curve of a smirk on Deucalion's mouth.

"There is that," He concedes. "You never know when one might... _Bite_."

Stiles snorts and tries to ignore the way his arms pebble with goosebumps, and the pool of... _something_ low in his belly.

 

Stiles isn't stupid, he knows he shouldn't be _near_ Deucalion, let alone speak to him, but there's something about him that draws Stiles in, that makes him want to talk and talk and ask all the questions he hasn't allowed himself to ask anyone else.

When he'd found out that Deucalion would be teaching at the school, he'd been ready to put a wolfsbane bullet between his eyes and hand him to the Argents... And then he'd heard him speak, the way the words roll off his tongue and the confidence in his shoulders, the barely concealed intelligence, and Stiles had been drawn to him like a mouth to a flame despite the big red warning sign.

 

"What _are_ you doing here so late anyway?" Deucalion says, turning and walking away, and Stiles assumes he's meant to follow, grapples with his locker key and hurries after him. He briefly wonders _why,_ he's willingly following an Alpha werewolf who probably wouldn't mind if he and all his friends dropped dead the next morning, but Deucalion's already entered his classroom, his white cane tapping in front of him on his way to his desk.

"Detention with Harris." Stiles finally replies, and Deucalion laughs.

"Again, Stiles?" His name dripping of his tongue, and Stiles goes to reply, he _does_ , but the next moment Deucalion removes his jacket, shirt riding up just enough that Stiles can see the dark trail of hair following the 'V' of his hips and below his trousers, and his mouth drops open, an almost strangled sound escaping his throat before he can muffle it.

 

Stiles wouldn't mind if the floor would crack open and swallow him whole, because he _knows_ this is wrong, so so wrong, and he's tried to ignore it, tried to ignore how he'd wake up in the middle of the night, stomach sticky and his cock aching with Deucalion's name bitter on his lips. He's tried to ignore the way Deucalion would walk a little too close and how he'd lean in to speak into his ear, the 'accidental' brushes when he'd pass Stiles' desk.

It's not love though, he doesn't even particularly _like_ him, but there's want that won't go away no matter how hard he tries.

 

Stiles blinks a few times, turns his head away and closes his eyes, ignores the thudding of his heart in his chest even though he's sure Deucalion's already heard it.

When he turns back, sure enough Deucalion has a smirk on his face, and his head is tilted to the side like he's listening for anymore embarrassing noises Stiles can make.

He's about to make some lame excuse and leave, but Deucalion steps closer, close enough that Stiles can feel his breath on his upper lip, and then there's hands on his jaw and thumbs digging slightly to the hinge, his mouth opening slightly with a soft noise.

Deucalion runs his index finger across Stiles' bottom lip, makes what Stiles can only describe as a rumble low in his throat, before he's biting and nipping into his mouth, teeth sharp and tongue wet and Stiles is frozen for what seems like hours until there's a sharp bite at the corner of his mouth and he gasps, hands scrabbling at Deucalion's shirt before getting a grip, a moan caught on his teeth.

 

Stiles isn't sure how it happens, but he finds himself sat on the desk, Deucalion between his spread thighs, and they're biting and licking into each others mouths, tongues slick with spit, and Stiles is pretty sure his lips will be permanently bruised red, but it's good, _so_ good.

Deucalion moves to his neck, and Stiles' breath shatters in his chest.

He thinks that he should object, try to push him away, or scream and fight, instead tilts his head to the side, and runs his hands down Deucalion's back until he reaches the waistband of his trousers.

"I want to-" He's cut off when there's a sharp bite at the tendon on his neck, his fingers spazam and he has to swallow roughly before he tries again, "I-I want to suck your cock, would you let me?"

There's a pauses and Stiles holds his breath.

"That mouth Stiles," Deucalion says finally, voice rough and low, "Is going to get you in a lot of trouble one day."

But he doesn't stop Stiles from sliding off the desk, or swapping their positions, until Deucalion's leaning against it, and Stiles is knelt between his legs, hands shaking slightly and lips dry as he undoes his belt and pulls down the zip.

Stiles swallows roughly, and Deucalion thumbs at his mouth, before his fingers slip further back until they can finger the curls at his nape, and Stiles' breath slows, grips trousers and pants and pulls.

 

Deucalion's cock is long and thick and flushed dark red at the top, and Stiles' has to lick his lips a few times before he leans forward to tongue at the head.

He's thought about it before, what it would feel like to have the heavy weight of a cock in his mouth and the bitter taste of pre-come in his throat, and if he'd liked to be gagged and used or if he'd like to tease and take his time, but he finds the reality is so much better.

There's a strong grip on his neck, not pushing or forcing, but _there_ , and fingers soothing down his hair. Deucalion's cock feels heavy and hot, and there's an almost bitter salt taste in his mouth, and he doesn't even try to stop the moan that escapes him as he mouths at the vein and bobs up and down the length.

Stiles leans back to catch his breath, flicks his eyes up and sees the sharpness of Deucalion's teeth between his lips, grips and squeezes the base of his cock and revels in the slip of noise he gets and scrape of nails on his neck.

"I'd let you." Stiles says, his voice is wrecked but he grins, and doesn't say anymore.

Deucalion seems to get it though, he knew he _would_ , because there's hands cupping his cheeks and pushing is mouth open until he can fit his cock back inside and Stiles has to swallow a few times, throat bobbing and then Deucalion's pushing forward, hips leaving the desk.

Stiles moans, long and low and swallows several times around the cock in his mouth, can feel spit slicking his chin and dampness at the corners of his eyes and has to push the heel of his hand onto the bulge at the front of his own trousers, feels the damp material, and his eyelashes flutter on his cheeks.

Deucalion pulls back enough for Stiles to take in a deep gulp of air before moving back, and Stiles lifts his hands, fits them around Deucalion's hips and encourages him to thrust, even as he tries to tongue at the cock already in his mouth as he moans.

He thinks he's going to come like this, come on his tongue and throat raw, but then the hands on his head are pulling him back and he can't help the whine that escapes him as the cock slips from his mouth and he's pulled up.

"You'd let me come in your mouth, wouldn't you Stiles?" Deucalion asks, and Stiles can tell he knows the answer already, but he nods anyway, tongues at the corners of his mouth.

"You'd let me fuck you as well, bend you over the desk, and fuck you until you scream." He says, hands unbuckling Stiles' trousers and pushing them down along with his boxers.

"Yes," Stiles' voice cracks on the 'e', and he's almost mortified to hear how raw, how _needy_ he sounds, but then there's a tight hand on his cock and lips on his again and he stops thinking.

Deucalion shifts them after a few moments, guides him until his hands are gripping the opposite corners of the desk and for a moment Stiles thinks that he _is_ going to be fucked over the desk, but he feels nothing but cool air.

 

Stiles' whole body flinches when there's suddenly hot air and a slick tongue on how hole.

"What-" He tries, but get's a sharp bite on his left cheek before the tongue's back on his hole, licking around the rim and nipping at the sensitive flesh.

"Oh my _God_ , you're- oh fuck." Stiles babbles, head thunking onto the desk. He's read about this, _watched_ this, but he's never thought it'd feel this good.

There's a hand gripping his hip and keeping him steady, sharp almost claws digging in the skin and Stiles' knows there's going to be bruises but can't bring himself to care, not when Deucalion's slipped the tip of his tongue into him, when there's slick messy wet sounds echoing through the room.

Stiles is whining low in his throat, and he can foggily hear the sounds of skin on skin, realises that Deucalion's got a hand on his own cock, and has to slam his eyes shut, breath stuttering.

"Can I- Can I touch myself?" He asks, his hand already reaching down between his stomach and the desk, and he thinks he's going to scream if he's told no, but Deucalion just hums low in his throat, carries on licking and tonguing his hole.

Stiles is too far gone to drag it out, to make himself last longer and he can't bring himself to be embarrassed, instead grips his cock and pulls as fast as he can take. He's sure the grip would be too tight any other time, but he doesn't care, thumbs at the head and spreads pre-come down his length, tries to thrust his hips back, get closer to the warm wetness even as he tries to thrust into his hand.

"I'm so close, just need- oh _fuck_ , please, Deucalion."

Deucalion groans, and the hand that was holding his hip leaves, and Stiles rocks a few times and then there's a slick finger at his hole and a tongue at the rim, his whole body rocking forward when his prostate is caught.

"Oh-" Stiles manages to gasp, before he's coming, cock pulsing in his hand, and body pulled taught before he collapses, panting and breathless on the desk.

 

There's a brief moment of silence, before Stiles can hear the sound of rustling fabric, and shuffling, cold air on his back where his shirts been pushed up before he feels something slick on his lower back.

It takes his fogged brain a little while to catch up, but when it does he twists around, tries to see his back, before turning narrowed eyes to Deucalion's smug face.

"Did you just come on me?" He hisses.

"Maybe next time I'll fuck you." Deucalion says instead, voice controlled and normal, the only thing giving him away is the redness and wetness of his lips, before feeling his way around the desk.

Stiles blinks a few times, lifts his eyes from where they'd be staring at Deucalion's lips, thinking of where they'd _been,_ and realises what he just said.

 

"You asshole!"  


End file.
